The Old Man's Bride CHAPTER 23.
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There are few to whom affliction does not come as an angel of mercy; few, who do not rise out of the fiery trial purified, in some degree, from the dross of worldly-mindedness or self-seeking. This was eminently so in the case of Mrs. Bullfinch. The starless night she had feared, did not come. The morning that broke upon her father, lent a few rays which struggled through the clouds darkly curtaining her horizon; and threw light on the rugged path which she was destined to tread, thus helping her to step between the flinty rocks on which her feet would have been torn, had she groped in the darkness. To her mind, the dying words of her father were ever present; the tones in which they were uttered, still sounded in her ears with a solemn impressiveness. Though dead, he yet spoke to her in a living voice."
New states of mind never exist without producing a corresponding external change. The state inspires the thought — and thought flows into action. Deeply conscious of having been thus far, unfaithful to the pledges involved in her marriage, and earnestly purposing now to do her duty to her husband as far as in her lay, it was not strange that Mr. Bullfinch soon perceived a change in his wife, which affected him agreeably. The moodiness, and sharp ill-nature, which she had from time to time exhibited, were no longer apparent. Upon his fretfulness, under slight disappointments, or fault-finding spirit when things did not please him — she no longer reacted as of old; but, to his surprise, meekly bore his reproachful words. Moreover, little discomforts, from which he so often suffered, were no longer apparent. And what was quite as agreeable to him, his rather epicurean tastes were consulted to a degree not known since Fanny Milnor resigned the care of his household.
In the orderly progress of cause and effect — a change soon showed itself in Mr. Bullfinch. His former cheerfulness did not return — there were reasons outside of his domestic relations affecting this — but, the ill-nature from which his family had suffered, disappeared; and the deference that his wife manifestly extended to his wishes, excited in him an inclination to defer also. Thus, constrained good will, and consequent good offices — produced good offices in return. The death of her husband greatly subdued Mrs. Lee, and so removed her disturbing influence.
If, in this new order of things, Mrs. Bullfinch did not find the beginnings of genuine affection for her husband — she yet experienced the birth of a new interest, which induced a closer observation. Much of the time she saw that his brow was clouded, and his mind either deeply abstracted, or evidently disturbed. More earnestly she sought to know his wishes; more sedulously strove to meet them in every particular. That she was successful in her desire to make his home pleasant, she had many reasons to conclude; still, the troubled aspect of his countenance remained; and his silence and abstraction grew deeper. A few times she sought to penetrate the cause of this change, but he gently repelled or evaded her inquiries.
In the sunless sky bending over Mrs. Bullfinch, the moon had risen to give its mellow, guiding light; but that sky was not long to remain cloudless. Either her closer observation of her husband revealed causes of anxiety, if not alarm — or he was beginning to acquire a habit exceedingly dangerous to all ages, but more particularly so, for one at his time of life. Both wine and brandy, he had always used on his table. Of the propriety of this, Helen had never, up to the present time, seen anything to awaken a doubt. But, now, she began to remark the frequency with which he filled his glass, and the stupor that often came after dinner. Could it be possible, she asked herself, and with a feeling of alarm, that he was becoming inordinately fond of alcoholic drinks? The very question gave a new excitement to her fears, and quickened her observation.
It was not long before all doubts gave place to painful certainty. Occasionally Mr. Bullfinch went out in the evening to spend an hour with some old friend. From one of these visits he returned rather later than usual, and so much under the influence of drink, as to be exceedingly foolish. In less than a week the same thing occurred again. From these, as well as other indications, it was but too apparent where his overindulged appetites were carrying him. He had pampered them until they were too strong for the rein, which, in times past, he was able to hold with a vigorous hand.
Morning usually found Mr. Bullfinch silent and troubled, his mind brooding over something, of which he showed no inclination to speak; while, it too often happened, that evening found him so heavy with excess of wine, as to be utterly stupid. As time wore on, this increased.
At length his manner became unusually excited, while his countenance showed the existence of intense anxiety. His breakfast would be taken hurriedly, and often fully half an hour elapsed, beyond the dining period — usually so promptly observed — before he returned from his store. Let us make the cause of this change more apparent to the reader.
Mr. Bullfinch had taken his silent and hastily eaten breakfast, one morning, during the time of which we are speaking, and was on his way to his store, when a mercantile friend overtook him.
"Have you seen the morning paper, Mr. Bullfinch?" inquired this gentleman.
"No," was answered. "I never see the papers until I get to my store.
"Any news of interest?"
"Another bad failure in New York is reported."
"Who?"
"L & J."
"Impossible!"
"Too true, I fear. They have been, for some time, greatly extended."
"I declare! It begins to look frightful," said Mr. Bullfinch, his manner indicating great uneasiness of mind.
"It does, indeed," was the equally concerned reply.
"Do they owe you anything?" asked Mr. Bullfinch.
"No, thank fortune. The owing part is on the other side this time."
"Ah! you're lucky."
"So I think. But, how is it with you?"
"I wish I could say the same. But, I sold them a bill just four months ago. The note fell due in New York yesterday. If they have actually failed, the protest will come to hand this morning."
"What amount?"
"Twenty-three hundred dollars!"
"Bad. Was the note discounted?"
"Yes, and this makes it so much the worse. I shall have to provide for it, on a day which is already burdened quite heavily enough."
The other shook his head, and put on a very grave countenance.
"How will you stand, today?" asked Mr. Bullfinch, after a pause. "Should this note come back under protest, I shall need to raise a couple of thousand dollars. Are you likely to have anything over?"
"Not a cent," was the unequivocal reply. "Not a cent, I've been on the borrowing list for a week, and see no prospect of getting off of it for a month to come."
The two men parted here, their ways diverging. With a quickened step, Mr. Bullfinch hurried on to his place of business. The news of L & J's failure, proved to be too true. Letters from New York not only confirmed it, but the protest on their unpaid note made assurance doubly sure.
Without this additional weight, Mr. Bullfinch had quite as much to carry for that day, as he could well bear. Intently as he had pondered the ways and means within his power — he was not yet able to see how his other payments were to be made; nor, after much thought and effort continued for some two hours, did the prospect before him grow any brighter. At length, after one or two heavy sacrifices, which, of late, he had been obliged too frequently to make, he obtained sufficient money to lift his own notes, but the protested note of L & J was yet unprovided for. This bid fair to prove the "last straw to break the camel's back." Every dollar of paper he had received, up to this time, for sales of goods, had been either passed through bank, or was in the hands of private moneylenders. No resource was left but that of borrowing money from mercantile friends, to be returned in a day or a week, as the case might be; and he had, already, made application in all quarters likely to afford the needed relief, in the effort to meet his legitimate payments.
Time flew by on rapid wings, and banking hours were fast drawing to a close; still the needed supply of money came not into the hands of Mr. Bullfinch. The old man's heart began to faint. That terrible ultimate in a merchant's life, failure — loomed up before his mental vision in its most frightful aspects, causing a shudder to reach his very heart.
It was past two o'clock, yet the deficit in his money matters for the day was just twenty-three hundred dollars, the amount of the protested note. To a merchant, who had been in the habit of lending him freely, but who had that morning failed to accommodate him as usual, he made application a second time.
"You must raise a couple of thousand dollars for me," said Mr. Bullfinch. "That note of L & J 's is still in the notary's hands, and my regular payments for the day, have exhausted all the day's resources.
"Impossible," was the firm answer; "utterly impossible. We had five thousand dollars in protested drafts to provide for, besides our usual payments, which were very heavy."
"Has any body got anything over today?" asked Mr. Bullfinch, in a half-despairing tone.
"Nobody that I have heard of, except Lane, Latta & Co. They are as easy as an old shoe. Someone told me yesterday, that their bank account always showed a balance to their credit of over ten thousand dollars."
"Possible!" The old man seemed partially stupefied by this declaration.
"Try them," said the merchant. Mr. Bullfinch shook his head.
"You'll get what you need for today, I have not the smallest doubt. See Mr. Wellford. He has most to do with the financial concerns of the establishment, and will lend you all you need at a word."
"No — no — I can't go there." There was a quickness of tone, and an unusual mark of feeling in the old man's voice.
"Why not? You need the money, and can get it for the asking."
"I'll try somewhere else," said Mr. Bullfinch, turning from the merchant, and walking hurriedly away. As he reached the street, his eyes rested on the face of a clock. What a large segment of a circle the minute hand had described since he last marked the hour! The old man's heart beat quicker and stronger. Two evils were before him: mercantile dishonor — or an application to Wellford for a temporary loan. He had no time now to cast about for any other resource; and, even the one which seemed to offer, must be used quickly if used at all.
It would be hard to describe the feelings of Mr. Bullfinch, as he dragged himself along in the direction of Lane, Latta & Co.'s. No physical suffering could have been so dreaded, as was the meeting with Mr. Wellford, to whom he knew the application for money must be made.
"Is Mr. Wellford in?" he asked, in a voice far from being as composed as he could wish, on entering the store.
"You will find him back in the counting-room," was answered, and the old gentleman moved down the store. It so happened that Wellford was alone in the counting room. He saw Mr. Bullfinch approaching, and, having heard that he was a loser by the failure in New York, inferred at once the purpose of his visit.
"Mr. Bullfinch. How are you?" said he kindly, as he advanced to meet him. Seeing that the old man was much embarrassed, he anticipated his request by saying —
"Can we do anything for you, today?"
"If you have some twenty-three hundred dollars over, you can," was stammered out.
"We can check for as much," said Wellford cheerfully. "How long will you need it?"
"For three or four days, if you can spare it so long," replied Mr. Bullfinch.
"Say for a week," replied Wellford, as he stepped back to a desk, and took down the check-book.
A few minutes after Mr. Bullfinch entered the store, he came out with a check in his hand for the sum needed. Is one respect, his mind was relieved; but, in another, it was heavily burdened. There was not a man living from whom an obligation could have been received with more reluctance. Nothing but the fearful consequences just ready to be visited upon him, would ever have driven him to this resort.
It did not escape the observation of Mrs. Bullfinch, when her husband came in, much later than usual, to dinner, that he was suffering from more than ordinary disturbance of mind; nor did she fail to remark that while he ate with none of his accustomed relish for food — he drank wine almost as freely as if it were water. The consequence she dreaded, came. When he arose, at length, from the table, he was so much affected by the unusual quantity of wine taken, that Helen had to assist him upstairs. Insensibility followed, from which he was not aroused until a late tea hour, when he took a single strong cup of coffee, and then went out for the evening. At eleven o'clock he came home, in little better condition than when he left the dinner table. In the morning, he was himself again, and prepared for another day's struggle with fortune. A too distinct remembrance of the previous day's trials, and especially the mode in which he had saved himself from ruin, in no way tended to the promotion of a cheerful spirit. Heavily contracted his brow, as he sat at the unenjoyed and silent breakfast.
"Can you let me have some money, today?" asked Mrs. Bullfinch, as he arose from the table.
The words of his wife seemed most unwelcome, for his already knit brows gained instantly a few more lines, and he said, rather impatiently —
"Money! For what? How much do you need?"
"None for myself," replied Mrs. Bullfinch, in a voice which showed that she was hurt by his manner. "The bread bill and the milk bill have not yet been paid, and the waiter needs twenty dollars which are due her."
"Very well — milk man, bread man, and waiter, can't be accommodated," said Mr. Bullfinch, gruffly.
"I told them all that they would have their money today," said Mrs. Bullfinch, in some perplexity of manner.
"Can't help it. They must wait. Money don't always come when you call for it. At least, not to me."
And without waiting a reply from his wife, whose flushing face warned him that he had spoken too unguardedly, Mr. Bullfinch turned off abruptly, and left the house.
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